


30 Day OTP Challenge

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 15,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My attempt at the 30 Day OTP Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One - Holding Hands

Jim's pale. Not that that's unusual. Except this time it is, because he's paler than he usually is. Any trace of colour has drained from his skin, leaving him sickly and pasty. His pulse is a faint fluttering beneath the surface of his skin. The rise and fall of his ribs is barely noticeable with each breath. The only notable reassurance he is still alive is the steady beep beep beep of the machine monitoring his heart. There's an oxygen mask obscuring half his face and a series of tubes entering his body through butterfly drips. If he were awake, he'd hate it.

His body is painted in bruises, littered with scratches and cuts. One eye is swollen. Part of his hair has been shaved away, leaving the stitching along his scalp visible. It's not a pretty picture, and it makes Sebastian's stomach twist sickeningly. Then again, that could be the countless black coffees he's been living off since he's been in this room. He barely sleeps, standing constant vigil over Jim. He wants to protect him from further harm and he wants to be there when Jim finally stirs. It's been two days already, but it feels like years, feels like forever. He frequently checks and double checks Jim's pulse just to make sure the machine is right. Sometimes he just lets his fingers linger, letting the soft, rhythmic pulse of blood beneath his fingertips calm him.

Jim would hate to see him like this. Would call him weak and mock his sentiment. A small part of him hopes that perhaps a small part of Jim will be grateful, will appreciate the fact he hasn't left his bedside since the building came down on top of them. He pushes this hope to the back of his mind and suffocates it beneath logic. It's foolishness to even consider Jim caring. Jim cares about nothing and no one. Probably wouldn't even care if he had of died. _Least I would have went out with a bang, eh, 'Bastian?_

The worst bit is the guilt that consumes him. It's stupidity, really, because it's not like it was Sebastian's fault. If anyone's to blame, it's Jim himself. He knew when the explosion was due. He should have been out of the building already. Shouldn't have been in the building to start with. Shouldn't have been near it at all, but this is Jim if-you-want-something-done-right-do-it-yourself Moriarty, and Jennings, who had only been on their damn team for two months, had panicked and tried to scamper (poor wanker got bullet in his head before he made it out of the lobby). Of course Jim wouldn't stand by and watch weeks of planning go down the drain. Never mind the fact Sebastian could have dealt with it. Could have sorted it and got out without a scratch.

He shouldn't have left the building without Jim. True, he didn't realise the little prick was inside until it was too late. He should have known. Should have been there. If nothing else, he could have shielded him with his body. Sebastian sighs and drags his hand through his hair for what must be at least the millionth time. He leans his elbows on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

“If you don't wake up I'm going to tell everyone you wore brown socks with blue suits. What do you think of _that_ , hm?” And it's not like Jim can hear him. Not like it matters. It's an empty threat, anyway. He'd never blemish Jim's name. Not even with something as trivial as sock colour choice (although to Jim such details were- _are_ never trivial).

He sighs again, quieter this time, weaker. His hand moves down along Jim's arm, fingers resting over his pulse. He folds his other arm on the bed, resting his head on it, and the lack of sleep is catching up with him. He's exhausted and his head hurts and he just needs to shut the world out for a while. Closing his eyes, Sebastian doesn't realise he's drifting off until he's already unconscious. His hand drops to beside Jim's on the bed.

Jim stirs without really waking. His hand twitches, fingers curling forward to slot themselves in the gaps between Sebastian's. Like instinct. Something familiar and unspoken. Sebastian mumbles something in his sleep, pressing his face into the crook of his elbow. His fingers automatically secure their hold on Jim's hand.

In a grey box of a hospital room, with the constant beep of the heart monitor their only soundtrack, Jim and Sebastian hold hands in an unconscious display of affection neither would dare initiate while awake.


	2. Day Two - Cuddling Somewhere

Jim paces around the rooftop for the thirty sixth time. He knows. He's been counting. Sebastian is getting increasingly annoyed, because he's going to draw attention prancing around like that.

“Would you sit down.”

“Borrrred.” Jim sighs heavily, draping himself over Sebastian's shoulders and resting his chin on the sniper's head. This lasts for all of three seconds before he's off doing lap thirty seven. Sebastian knew this would happen. He just knew.

It's a surveillance job, dull but necessary. Jim gets bored on hits with him, he knew this would be even worse. But the little prick had insisted, because the hotel room is ' _boring when you're not here to keep me occupied_ '. Sebastian had told him to go sight seeing or something but ' _I've seen it all before, darling._ ' So now he's stuck with one of Jim's little strops he throws when he isn't entertained. 

“Jim, sit the fuck down.”

“But it's cooold.” There's a whine in his voice now. High pitched and annoying, grating across Sebastian's nerves and making him want to push Jim off the edge of the building just to get a little peace. When Jim puts on that voice, he usually gets what he wants, if only to shut him up.

Sebastian lets out an annoyed grunt, unbuttoning his coat and pulling it open. It's baggy on him, big and warm and good for when he has to spend hours on roof tops or stairwells in the Winter. Jim emits a triumphant little sound, practically skipping across to plop down on Sebastian's lap. Seb readjusts Jim so his bony fucking hipbones aren't digging into his thighs or stomach, then pulls the coat around him and tilts his head away to look through the binoculars again.

Jim curls against Seb's chest, holding the coat around him like a blanket and nuzzling his face into Sebastian's neck. It's distracting, but much better than the pacing. He curls his free arm around the Jim-shaped lump in his coat, holding him close as Jim's cold nose brushes beneath his ear. Jim hums quietly to himself, content with this arrangement. Sebastian leans his head on top of Jim's and, when he's sure the criminal can't see, lets a small smile flit across his features.


	3. Day Three - Gaming

Jim always wins Monopoly. Always. Without fail.

Sebastian's pretty sure he's cheating somehow. There's no real technique to the damn thing, it's all about where you land. You have to hope for a good roll and see how it goes. Jim buys everything and never seems to run out of money. He builds houses on every property and makes dramatic trumpeting sounds when he replaces them with hotels.

Jim never lets him be the banker, so he's pretty sure the little cheat is sneaking himself extra money when Sebastian's not looking. He's not surprised, really.

Sebastian spends a lot of time in jail. He always seems to land on the bloody 'Go to Jail' square, and he knows it annoys Jim when he doesn't pay his way out, so he rolls for the three turns just to see him sulk.

“What does it matter, anyway? We both know you're going to win.”

“You're being a spoilsport, Sebastian.”

Which is ironic, really, since Jim's the one fucking slipping himself 500 notes when Sebastian's reading his Community Chest card. But this time it's different. This time Sebastian took the box and held it up out of Jim's reach.

“I'm being the banker this time.”

“I'm always the banker!” Jim clawed at his arms, trying to pull them down to grab the box.

“What's wrong? 'Fraid you'll lose if you can't sneak yourself extra money.”

Jim's expression darkened at that, because Jim Moriarty never loses. So, with a little huff of annoyance, he'd dropped down onto the little nest of cushions he'd made at the opposite side of the table and sent Sebastian a heated glare. Seb just smirked in response, dealing them out the money.

“I'm still being the dog, though.”

Jim's always the dog. Sebastian tends to go for the canon. He doesn't care much about which figure he is, anyway. The only reason he plays the damn game is to stop Jim throwing a hissy fit.

“Fine.” He had tossed the little metal canine across to Jim, picking out his own figure and setting it on the go square. Jim 'accidentally' knocked it off the table when he set his down.

“Woops.”

Sebastian lifted the canon and placed it again, telling Jim to roll the damn dice (Jim always goes first). The game went normally enough for the first half an hour, with Jim buying everything he landed on and Sebastian in jail (seriously, he's not even surprised any more).

Now, though, Jim has run out of money and he's not best impressed about the fact. Sebastian refuses to give him a loan from the bank and he takes to sulking about it. Sebastian's actually rather enjoying the change.

Until Jim sends the board flying across the room and locks himself in the bedroom.

So Sebastian has to sleep in the spare room tonight. It’s worth it, he reasons, to finally get a break from bloody Monopoly.


	4. Day Four - On a Date

Jim gets bored sometimes. Well alright, that’s the understatement of the millennium. Jim gets bored a lot, and he finds different ways of dealing with it. Sometimes he’ll teach himself something new, other times he’ll lose himself in his work. Then there are times when he takes the notion of being someone else. Sometimes they’re aliases, but on the odd occasion he’ll simply want a break from being himself.

Today is one of those days. Sebastian enters and freezes, eyeing the strange man on the sofa up suspiciously. Then his head swivels towards him and he realises it’s just Jim dressed up. He’s in a plaid red and white button up shirt, with all the buttons done (unusual for Jim out of his suits, the little tease likes to keep a fair amount of neck on display. He’d never admit it, but he loves the way Sebastian’s eyes linger), a dark grey cardigan and a pair of jeans just this side of too tight. He’s also wearing red canvas shoes that Sebastian’s never seen in their wardrobe before.

“Oh, hi, love.” Jim fumbles with the words, not making direct eye contact, and it’s always off putting when he chooses a personality so far from his own. He stands and moves around the sofa, fiddling with the bottom of his cardigan as he approaches Sebastian and gives him a lopsided little smile. He’s wearing a pair of oversized Ray Bann glasses with clear lenses in them and Sebastian is simultaneously confused and turned on because, hey, it’s Jim and Jim can look hot in anything. Jim bites back a smirk at Sebastian’s reaction.

“Hey you.” Sebastian just rolls with it, because by this stage he knows better than to question Jim. It’s one of the reasons he’s lasted so long. He leans down to give Jim a chaste kiss, one that makes him smile at the ground and bite his bottom lip. He does so love it when Sebastian plays along with him.

“I was thinking.” His hands move from his cardigan to the bottom of Sebastian’s shirt, curling it around his fingers. “That maybe we could go out.”

Jim risks a glance up from beneath his eyelashes, worrying his bottom lip again before hurriedly flicking his eyes away. Sebastian smiles fondly, cupping Jim’s cheek and stroking his thumb along the curve of his cheekbone. Jim leans into the touch, daring another glance up at him. He knows Sebastian enjoys the excuse to be soft with him on occasion.

“Give me five minutes to get changed, yeah?”

Jim hums to himself, trailing after Sebastian and lingering in the doorway. He peeks around the door frame, watching Sebastian change into a fresh shirt and tug on a jacket, smiling bashfully at him when their eyes meet in the mirror. Sebastian crosses the room quickly, pulling him into a sudden kiss. Jim lets out a squeak of protest as Seb gives his waist a light squeeze.

“Alright, shorty, I’m ready when you are.”

“’M ready.”

“Righto. Where do you want to go?”

“It’s a surprise.”

They end up at a funfair. Sebastian didn’t even know there was one in town at the minute, but Jim always knows these kind of things. Jim slips his hand into Sebastian’s once they get out of the cab, tugging him along in a way that’s more a request for him to follow than Jim’s usual forceful lead. He looks expectantly at Sebastian when they reach the entrance, curling up against his side with a pleased sound when Seb takes the hint and pays their admission.

Jim bounces excitably on the balls of his feet once they enter the fair, immediately disappearing and leaving Sebastian to jog after him. They do the few rollercoasters first, because it’s early enough that the queues haven’t got bad yet, then Jim decides he wants candyfloss. After Sebastian’s bought him a stick covered in the pink sugary fluff, he points out the shooting range.

“Look, ‘Bastian. They have tigers.”

Sebastian smiles, hand on Jim’s lower back guiding him towards the stall.

“Shall I see if I can win you one?”

Jim looks up at him, all wide eyes behind his glasses and sweet smile with a strand of candyfloss stuck to his lower lip. He nods enthusiastically. Sebastian kisses him, licking the candyfloss away before leading the way to the shooting range. His first shot misses, but it’s just a test. Once he learns how the bullets stray slightly to the right he manages to knock three piles of cans down, one after the other. The woman at the stall looks a bit gobsmacked. Jim claps excitably and cheers.

“My word. What’ll it be, then?” the woman asks after she’s worked out how to close her mouth again.

“That one,” Jim says, pointing to one of the tigers. He shoves the rest of his abandoned candyfloss into Seb’s hands and hugs the tiger to his chest. After a few seconds he grabs Sebastian’s wrist. “Ferris wheel now!”

Sebastian laughs and lets Jim drag him around the rest of the fair. They hold hands on the wheel, the tiger, who Jim has pronounced Bach (because then he’s a Sebastian too), settled between them. Sebastian kisses him at the top, soft and tasting of sugar, and Jim lets him, curls against his chest and makes a quiet appreciative hum in the base of his throat.

From there they end up squeezed together in a bumper car, Bach settled on Jim’s lap as he points out which cars he wants Sebastian to crash in to. They do the Waltzer at least three times, because Jim loves the dizzying rush of it and Sebastian, well, Sebastian will do whatever Jim asks, even if it does make him feel a bit queasy. Jim disappears in the fun house and pounces on Sebastian when he’s least expecting it, collapsing into a fit of childish giggles when Seb emits an undignified squeak of surprise. On the ghost train he presses his face into Sebastian’s shoulder, clutching his hand and whimpering despite the fact Sebastian knows it’s all an act.

They stop for McDonalds on the way home, and Sebastian’s glad to see Jim eating something, even if it isn’t the healthiest. Jim brushes Seb’s foot with his own under the table and, just before they leave, strokes his hand up along Sebastian’s thigh teasingly.

When they get home Sebastian discovers that this persona, despite his sweet and innocent demeanor, fucks like a dirty little slut. But hey, he’s not complaining.


	5. Day Five - Kissing

Sometimes Jim will distance himself. There will be days when he doesn’t want to be touched, feels claustrophobic if anyone’s in his space, gets grumpy and irritable and locks himself away. Most days, though, he’s surprisingly affectionate. Once they’re home and he’s changed into his leisure wear (usually a pair of loose fitting shorts and one of Seb’s old t-shirts), if he has nothing of great importance to work on, he’ll come and curl up against Sebastian’s side or drop into his lap or sprawl across his chest.

He likes the attention. Likes the feel of fingers in his hair and hands stroking over his skin. Of being held and cuddled and generally being the centre of Sebastian’s attention, even if his own is focused on something else. He’s a bit like a cat in that way. So Jim will come and lay his head on Sebastian’s lap, nuzzle his face into his neck or flop onto him in bed, letting Seb stroke and cuddle him as he reads or watches TV or types away furiously on his phone.

Then there are times when he doesn’t have something else to focus on. They’re not exactly rare, but they’re not as frequent as Sebastian would like them to be. Jim will drop down beside him and give him this wicked little smirk before sliding across to close the distance. It doesn’t always start with kissing. Sometimes he’ll go for Sebastian’s neck first, nuzzle against it, press his face into the skin and breathe him in. Or he’ll lie with his head on Seb’s lap and press his face into his stomach, like a cat nuzzling against his owner to scent them. On the rare occasion he’ll even massage Sebastian’s shoulders and, God, is Jim good with his hands. Usually, though, it’s Seb giving the back rubs.

But mostly when Jim wants something, he takes it. So when he feels like kissing Sebastian, it doesn’t require a build up. Today is one of those days.

Sebastian had been out on a long job. The mark didn’t show on time and he’d waited for hours. It wasn’t freezing or wet, but it was cold enough to make it unpleasant. When he came home his first stop was a quick sandwich followed by a long shower. Now he’s towelled off and dropped down onto the couch in his boxers and a t-shirt, he just wants to watch shit telly and relax for a bit.

Jim doesn’t look near him when he first comes in. He’s humming along to some ridiculously upbeat song, headphones in and hips swaying along to the beat. God only knows where he’s been, but he’s dressed casual enough. Jeans and a cardigan over a v-neck. Sebastian looks up at the sound of the door closing.

“Hey.”

Jim doesn’t hear him, lost in his own world. He murmurs something about hips and lying, not exactly singing along, eyes closed as he drifts across the flat. He knows the layout well enough to navigate it, even with his eyes shut. He disappears down the hall, returning about fifteen minutes later. Sebastian doesn’t even glance up this time until Jim’s in front of him.

“Jim, move, you’re blocking the TV.”

Jim, of course, ignores him. He moves forward, dropping down with a knee planted on either side of Sebastian’s thighs. Seb looks up at him, taking a second to observe his mood. Smiling softly. He’s safe. Returning the smile, he rests his hands on Jim’s hips.

“Wh-”

“Shh.” Jim cuts him off, pressing a finger to his lips. Sebastian immediately silences. Jim smiles, leaning down to replace his finger with his mouth. It’s a soft kiss at first, chaste, but those kind of kisses barely last. Soon his mouth is moving against Sebastian’s and it’s nice, familiar. Still slow and lazy enough to be comfortable, enjoyable without leading anywhere.

Jim pushes at Sebastian’s shoulders, little touches that he understands. Still holding Jim’s hips, he shifts his own side ways, so his legs are laid out along the couch. He shimmies around so his back is to the armrest and then Jim is pushing him down, sprawling out across his body and deepening the kiss. One hand is cupping the side of Sebastian’s neck, thumb stroking across his throat in a silent threat ( _I could push down at any moment_ ), but he knows Jim won’t do anything tonight. He can tell. The other hand is gripping his hair lightly, fingers curling around the side of his skull.

Sebastian’s arm curl around Jim’s slim form, fingers splayed possessively across his back, hands pressing him closer. He sucks on Jim’s lower lip and Jim nips his in response, enough to sting but not enough to break skin. Jim tastes like cinnamon and cream ( _someone’s been to Starbucks_ ), and Sebastian eagerly licks his way into his mouth until all he can taste is Jim. His hands work their way upwards until they’re tangled in Jim’s hair. He drags his nails lightly across the scalp in a way he knows Jim likes and the criminal whimpers into his mouth. His own hand tightens its grip on Sebastian’s hair. In response, Sebastian tightens both of his, giving a sharp tug that has Jim whining and clawing at his shoulder, pressing closer until the press of their mouths is almost painfully hard.

Sebastian flips them suddenly. Jim lets out a yelp of protest, but it’s muffled as Sebastian kisses him again, pinning him down to the sofa and trailing kisses down his neck. Jim sighs, quiet and content, shifting into a chuckle.

“Bedroom?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Sebastian grins, scooping Jim into his arms.


	6. Day Six - Wearing Each Others' Clothes

Sebastian turns the television off. He can’t watch any more. Of course, he can’t really forget about it. He sees it every time he closes his eyes. Is reminded by the constant ache in his chest. It just seems to drive it home all the more seeing the headlines.

**THE END OF THE STORYTELLER**

**PRETEND CRIMINAL MASTERMIND COMMITS SUICIDE**

**RICHARD BROOK KILLS SELF AFTER HOLMES ORDEAL**

**NO HAPPY ENDING FOR CHILDREN’S TV STAR**

Jim had told him this would be the end of it. Game over. They’d never have to worry about Holmes again.

“ _Things are going to change, ‘Bastian. Soon_.”

Sebastian didn’t understand what change he meant at the time. He does now. All too well. He’s got the note, torn to pieces and stuck back together. Telling him he has to take over now. Has to keep the empire together. _Don’t let me down, tiger._ Even now he can’t bring himself to go against what Jim’s asking him. Loyal to the fucking end. Jim knew he would be. _I know I can count on you._ Irish wanker. He also knew how much it would hurt Sebastian, and he didn’t even say goodbye.

He never gave Seb the chance to say goodbye.

Sebastian abandons the couch and heads to their room. He dresses in one of the few ridiculously overpriced suits Jim bought for him, hands shaking as he does up the buttons and straightens the tie. He’s never really been fond of suits. Too many memories of his parents’ dinner parties full of stuck up prats who would frown down on him like he was something unpleasant they’d stepped in. But it makes him feel close to Jim, dressed up like this. Armani. Plain black. _Simple but classy, darling._ Jim has, no, _had_ a matching one, and it makes him feel close to him.

Which really is stupid, sentimental and beyond pathetic. Jim would laugh at him. Jim would mock him.

But Jim’s not here so Sebastian really doesn’t give a fuck.

He glances at Jim’s side of the wardrobe. He wanted to tear the suits to shreds. To throw all his clothes out. Get rid of every last trace of him, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to even touch them. So he looks away and slides the wardrobe door closed hard enough to shake the whole wardrobe. He looks at the bed and feels the back of his throat burn. Jim’s pillow has already lost his scent.

Determined, Sebastian sets off into the bathroom, digging through the clothes hamper until he finds the last t-shirt Jim wore before… Before. He presses it to his face, breathing deeply and letting the first shaky sob come. Fuck. _Fuck_. He didn’t cry at first, but it’s been three days now and it seems the dam has finally broken.

Holding the shirt to his chest, Sebastian heads back into their room and drops onto the bed. He curls into himself, burying his face into the shirt and trying his hardest to stop crying.

It doesn’t work.

He stops caring.

*

Jim paces the empty flat. It’s small and cold and dark compared to his own, to his _home_ , but he can’t go back there. He knows Sebastian must be hurting right now, but he also knows he won’t do anything stupid. That he won’t let him down, even after everything he’s done to him. That’s his ‘Bastian. Loyal to the end, and beyond.

The only thing he didn’t anticipate was that he might actually miss him. He’s not supposed to. He’s not supposed to care. Not about Sebastian, not about anyone. Yet he does. Jim tries not to lie to himself. He lies to everyone else, but with himself for the most part he’s honest, and he can’t deny the effect the separation is having on him. His insomnia is worse without Sebastian to curl up against and he barely eats without Seb forcing his cooking upon him. Not to mention the fact his headaches and black moods are much more frequent.

But he can’t go back. Not yet, anyway. He knows Holmes survived ( _foolish little Sherlock, thinking he could trick me_ ) and he knows he’ll be trying to win back his reputation. Jim spares a glance at the phone on the kitchen counter, screen cracked from where it fell. _That plan didn’t follow through for you, silly Sherlock_. He rolls his own phone between his hands, his messages from Sebastian open.

I don’t believe you. -SM

You could have told me. -SM

No, of course you wouldn’t. You knew I’d stop you. -SM

I hate you so much for this, James. -SM

That was a lie. I could never hate you. -SM

The flat’s so empty without you. -SM

Goodbye. Since I never got to say it. -SM

He frowns down at the screen, stroking his thumb along the side of his phone before setting it down beside Sherlock’s. He can feel the throbbing of a fresh headache building at the base of his skull. Padding through to the bathroom, Jim takes a few co-codomol and strips down to his boxers. He moves into the small bedroom, so plain and empty compared to his old room. Their room. He’d moved a couple of his things in before the Fall, including several of Sebastian’s old t-shirts he’s stolen over the years for sleeping in.

Jim picks out his favourite, a plain red one with a few holes at the bottom, the first one he ever nicked. Pulling it on, he makes a cup of tea and curls up on the sofa with a blanket, tugging the shirt up over his nose and closing his eyes. Trying, but failing, to fall asleep.


	7. Day Seven - Cosplaying

“No.”

“Yes.”

“ _No_ , Jim.”

“Are you disagreeing with me?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad. Put it on _now_. That’s an order, Sebastian.”

“I am not dressing up like fucking Holmes.” Sebastian fires the coat away from him as if he’s just been burned. The wig, however, gets tangled around his fingers and he has to shake his hand furiously before it falls off. “Not happening.”

Jim frowns, glancing down at where the wig has landed at his feet. He’s dressed in a thick, porridge coloured knitted sweater and has put talcum powder in his hair (which has been styled differently than usual) to make it appear lighter. Sebastian doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

“If you’re not dressed in five minutes every single one of your guns will end up at the bottom of the Thames.”

He looks at Jim closely. The little prick has a pleasant smile on his face, playing up the part of Watson, but his eyes are dark and Sebastian knows he’s serious. He sighs in defeat, gathering the bundle and disappearing. When he comes out again, he’s clad in black slacks, a purple shirt that’s two sizes too small, the black coat and a blue scarf. He looks beyond miserable.

“Now, now, Seb. You know that included the wig.”

Sebastian grumbles as he pulls on the mass of curls. Jim clicks his tongue in annoyance, crossing to straighten it as Sebastian has it jammed on lopsided.

“Someone’s _gorgeous_ ,” he purrs, and it makes Sebastian want to smash his head against a wall. Jim knows this, and his grin widens.

“You’re an idiot,” he snaps sullenly, attempting to imitate Holmes’ annoying tone.

“And you’re a bit of a prat, really.” Jim’s voice softens, eerily similar to that of Doctor Watson’s, and Sebastian’s skin crawls.

It’s going to be a long day.


	8. Day Eight -Shopping

Jim prances around, clearly in his element. They’ve already spent their morning looking at suits and Sebastian is bored out of his mind. Of course, his suits have to be fitted, but once Jim starts shopping he tends to continue until he gets bored or tired. Neither seem very likely at the moment.

“Oh, Bastian, look. This would go perfectly with your blue jacket.”

“I never wear that jacket.”

Jim turns to him, eyes wide and offended.

“I bought it for you!”

“I told you I hated it.”

“It brings out the colour of your eyes,” Jim says rather sullenly, and Sebastian relents. Damn Jim and his puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.”

“I was getting it anyway.”

Sebastian sighs in irritation as Jim throws the scarf on top of the pile of clothes currently in his arms. This is the only reason Jim drags Sebastian along, so he can carry everything for him. He practically skips further into the shop, picking up and examining clothes, tossing some aside while pulling a face and adding more to the pile.

He really doesn’t need any extra clothes, Sebastian thinks. The wardrobe is already stuffed and he doesn’t even wear half of the things. _I might need them for a disguise sometime_. Sebastian’s pretty sure that’s just an excuse to cover for the fact that Jim’s an impulsive little shit and, like a magpie, he’s attracted to ‘pretty’ objects.

“These would look gorgeous on you.”

Sebastian, on the other hand, likes practical, comfortable clothes. Not that he has much of a say. Jim likes to dress him up like his own toy soldier doll.

“Jim.” Sebastian’s voice comes from somewhere behind the clothes mountain. It’s grown big enough now that he’s obscured from view, unable to see Jim any longer. “I think that’s enough.”

Jim, of course, ignores him.

“Do you think this colour compliments my skin tone?”


	9. Day Nine - Hanging Out With Friends

Sebastian hadn’t seen the boys in ages. Well, men, really, but they were below him in the army and it’s always difficult to shake the image of them being young little things. Not that they’re all little. Some of them are even bigger than Sebastian himself. But still. Shut up, he’s a bit drunk, he’s not thinking right.

Tonight had been good, though. It had been over a year and a few of them had come home since. Injuries and whatnot. Stevenson came home to a new baby boy and Ford’s engaged now. It was nice to have a bit of banter and spend time with someone other than Jim for a while. Not that Sebastian has any problems with Jim, just that he’s been working for Jim for the guts of that year and a bit and he hasn’t really spent time with anyone else unless it was work related.

So when he finally staggers home (and it’s only a bit of a stagger, really, a slight sway), he’s feeling cheery and relaxed. The feeling evaporates almost the instant he steps into the flat. He can feel the tension, even in his hazy, tipsy state. Jim’s in a bad mood. A very bad mood. The silence is heavy and Sebastian feels like every step forward he takes makes a giant thud. He’s very aware of the beat of his heart and the pattern of his breathing. It sobers him up a bit, and his eyes flick across the kitchen and living room, searching for Jim. He appears from the hall.

“You’re late, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I was just out with a few mates. Didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

“That’s your problem, isn’t it, Sebastian? You never think.”

Jim prowls across the room, predatory. The only light comes from the city lights outside, shining through the large glass windows that dominate one wall. This leaves the room dimly lit and Jim looks like a shadow as he crosses toward Sebastian, except his skin is too pale. His eyes look like black holes in his head, not enough light to show up the whites of them.

Sebastian swallows. Even buzzed, he knows that Jim isn’t to be messed with like this. Still, he has a little liquid courage in him and, once he’s got over the general instinctive fear and thought about it, he’s kind of pissed Jim is making a big deal out of this.

“Am I not allowed to go out anymore?”

“Not without informing me first.”

“Jesus Christ, Jim. I’m not a child. I don’t have to-” Sebastian stops suddenly, catching the flicker on Jim’s face. It’s jealousy, yes. Possessive jealousy. Doesn’t want anyone else near his favourite toy. Wants Seb’s full attention, but there’s something else hidden in his expression, too.

Suddenly it occurs to Sebastian that he’s never heard Jim mention anyone outside of work. He doesn’t always know where Jim goes, but he’s pretty sure any time he meets someone it’s business related.

Oh.

Perhaps it’s because he’s still quite drunk that he’s not exactly thinking straight, but Sebastian ignores the seething look of fury on Jim’s face and crosses to hug him, pressing his face into Jim’s hair and clinging despite his struggles.

“You’re my best friend, you know.”

“Get off of me, you great oaf. I don’t care for your ridiculous sentiment.”

Jim hisses and scratches and squirms until he breaks free, panting with the effort of it. He lets out a sharp exhale, glowering at Sebastian. “Make sure you shower before you come to bed. You stink of smoke.” _And other people._

Sebastian just smiles, because the fact he hasn’t been banished to the spare room means he’s not in trouble. Means he’s done something right.


	10. Day Ten - With Animal Ears

“Why do we have to dress up in these ridiculous costumes again?”

“They’re not ridiculous, silly. They’re cute. I’ve told you, it’s a costume party and the theme is animals.” Jim glances over at Sebastian before frowning. “You’ve got your ears all lopsided again.”

He shifts forward, readjusting Seb’s tiger ears upon his head and giving him a sweet, albeit feigned, smile.

“There. Who’s my pretty kitty?”

“I don’t see why I couldn’t just wear a striped top.”

Jim has stripped Sebastian from the waist up and painted him in orange and black stripes, much to the sniper’s irritation. At first he’d tried to argue, but Jim always gets his way.

“And I’m pretty sure tigers don’t wear collars.”

“You’re a very special tiger. Besides, I want people to see you have an owner.” Jim gives the collar a sharp tug, dragging Sebastian down for a quick kiss. When he tries to deepen it, Jim chides him. “You’ll smear your nose.”

Jim turns back to the mirror, returning to work on his own face. Much to Sebastian’s surprise, he’s rather skilled with face paint. Then again, he probably shouldn’t be surprised. Jim is skilled with most things. Using the remainder of the orange face paint and some cream paint he did Sebastian’s stomach with, he creates a rather impressive fox face. He’s even sprayed his hair a rustic orange for the occasion, slipping his own ears over the top of it.

He’s meant to be Fantastic Mr Fox. Sebastian’s impressed he found a way of wearing a suit to a costume party.

“I still think you should have just let me get a horse mask,” Sebastian murmurs, half distracted as he admires Jim. The colour of the paint seems to bring out his eyes. They’re soft tonight, a deep chocolate.

“Where would the fun in that be? Come along now. Don’t want to be late.”

Sebastian does so, not even complaining when Jim tugs on his lead.


	11. Day Eleven - Wearing Onesies

Jim bought them impulsively. On occasion he is prone to bouts of sickening sweetness, although they rarely last. So when he landed home with a Primark bag and flung a tiger onesie at Sebastian with the order he put it on, _now_ , Sebastian didn’t even question it. To be fair, he was a bit preoccupied watching as Jim stripped himself down to his boxers. Then he was shimmying into a green dinosaur onesie and looking at Sebastian expectantly.

“Well?”

Sebastian did and they spent a rare evening cuddling on the sofa watching Disney movies.

Since then, it has become Jim’s comfort clothing. He rarely wears it for lounging about or sleeping in, preferring just his boxers or, more commonly, his boxers and one of Seb’s old shirts. So when Sebastian comes in from a job and sees the yellow spikes sticking up over the back of the sofa, he knows that Jim’s in a mood to just be held.

Jim doesn’t speak as he crosses the living room. He’s looking at the television without really seeing it, lost in his own head. Seb pops down the hall for a quick shower before coming out in his tiger onesie.

“Hey you.”

Jim finally looks up at the sound of his voice, tipping his head backwards and moving the cap out of the way so he can see Sebastian. He says nothing, reaching out his arms like a child and making grabby hands. Sebastian smiles, shifting Jim so he can slide in half beside, half under him. Jim curls into his chest with a quiet sniffle.

“Are you alright?”

“Sick,” Jim offers after a moment. His voice is hoarse, croaky and it’s clear his throat is aching. He sniffles again and burrowing his face into Sebastian’s chest. Seb presses a hand to his forehead while he’s distracted. The skin is clammy and hot.

“You’re burning up.”

“Cold,” Jim whines, arms circling Seb’s waist as if he can steal his body heat.

Sebastian sighs quietly and rises again. He scoops Jim into his arms, ignoring the complaint that gets lost in a sneeze. Jim struggles a bit, but he’s dizzy and tired so it’s not long before he simply rests against Sebastian’s shoulder and allows himself to be carried through to the bedroom. Sebastian makes sure he’s comfortable in bed, pulling the duvet up over him.

“Do you want anything?”

“You,” Jim says quietly, wide eyes peeking out from beneath the peak of his onesie. Sebastian smiles, sliding in beside him and pulling Jim close.

“I’ll go get some soup and Soothers later.”

“Mmkay,” Jim murmurs sleepily, already drifting off. He’d been fighting off sleep until Sebastian arrived, the fever making him drowsy. Sebastian just holds him closer, stroking the sweat sticky hair back from Jim’s forehead and up under his hood.


	12. Day Twelve - Making Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want this to be too similar to the 'kissing' one, so I made it teenlock.

Jim slips easily from tree branch to tree branch. He’s climbed his way up to Sebastian’s room enough times by now that even in the dark he has no trouble navigating his way up through the large sycamore beside his window. The final branch is always a bit more difficult to shimmy across, and Jim fears that one of these days it’s going to snap on him, but tonight he makes it across and taps on the glass. When his first few quiet knocks go unanswered he raps a little harder.

Sebastian appears clad in boxers alone, looking rather groggy. He’s still squinting and rubbing sleep from his eyes when he opens the window.

“Wh’dya want?” He yawns widely as Jim hops across to the windowsill.

“To take you away to Neverland with me.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. It’s too late for this shit.

“Jim.”

“Sebastian.”

Seb shakes his head in defeat, walking back to his bed and collapsing face down onto the duvet. Jim toes off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket, following Seb and sprawling out on top of his back.

“I was bored.” He breathes the words against Sebastian’s ear and gets a grunt in response. With a frown he starts whining. “Bassstian.”

Seb growls, the high sound of Jim’s voice grating on his nerves. He rolls to the side, knocking Jim off and lying half on top of him, face pressed into Jim’s neck.

“Go t’sleep.”

“Not tired.”

No. Jim never is. Sebastian sighs again. Jim grins widely, stroking his hair. He gives it a sharp little tug.

“Bassstian. Pay attention to me.”

“What do you want, Jim?” Sebastian is snapping now, a sharp tone to his voice. Jim’s grin widens and he nuzzles his face into Seb’s hair, inhaling the older boy’s scent.

“Amuse me.”

Sebastian moves, heaving himself up to lean over Jim. He catches a wrist in each hand, pinning them down to the bed above his head. Jim smiles up at him, delighted at this turn of events. He wriggles, testing the hold before raising an eyebrow at Sebastian.

“You are so fucking annoying,” is all Seb says before capturing Jim’s lips in a hard kiss. He nips at the bottom one, his own revenge against being woken up, but Jim simply moans in response. Sebastian presses him harder into the bed, licking his way inside of Jim’s mouth and sucking at his tongue. The fierce dominance only lasts for a minute or so, sleepiness getting the better of him. He rolls them over again, holding Jim to his chest and continuing to kiss him lazily.

Jim wriggles about a bit, sprawling across Sebastian’s chest in his familiar, comfortable position. He can sense Seb’s getting drowsy again, but keeps him awake with slow kisses that have a bit too much tongue to be sweet. Sebastian’s hands are on his lower back, resting lightly but still keeping him close. His own fingers are tangled in Sebastian’s hair, holding but not pulling, every so often stroking along the scalp. The room is quiet, the occasional wet sound of their mouths moving or parting the only sound besides the distant noise of traffic carrying on the night air. This continues for the better part of half an hour before Sebastian breaks the kiss completely.

“’Kay, sleep now, Jim.”

Usually Jim would resist, would deepen the kisses and rile Sebastian up to keep him awake, but tonight he’s content enough to just curl into Seb’s chest and listen to his heartbeat.

“Aw, my kitten is sleepy.”

“Mmm.” Sebastian pulls the duvet over them once Jim has shimmied out of his jeans and t-shirt. He curls an arm around Jim’s waist, tugging him close with a contented sigh. Jim squirms until he’s comfortable, hooking a leg across Seb’s hips and pressing close. Sebastian is warm and Jim’s skin is soft against his. They press closer, heads tilting automatically for another lazy, slow kiss.

“G’dnight, Jim.”

“Night, Bastian.”


	13. Day Thirteen - Eating Ice Cream

Job went smoothly. On my way home now. -SM

Good. I expect no less. -JM

As if I don’t know that. Need anything from the shop? -SM

Bring ice cream. Something nice. Oh, and a garden trowel if you can find one. -JM

Sebastian isn’t even fazed by Jim’s odd requests any more. Without questioning him, he stops off at Tesco on his way home and picks up two tubs of Ben and Jerry’s Cookie Dough ice cream (because it’s one of the flavours Jim will actually eat) and, after a bit of searching, a small garden trowel. He also picks up a few different things that they’re low on, including herbs and pasta sauce for tomorrow’s dinner. He’s been too busy to cook much as of late and so Jim’s managed to get away without eating a lot. He’ll need to start making steady meals again. Jim’s more likely to eat his cooking than anything else.

When he gets home he takes Jim his ice cream through along with a spoon and his trowel, still a bit unsure as to its purpose, before going to put away the rest of the groceries. Jim beams at him, accepting the ice cream and starting into it, abandoning the trowel on the coffee table. He’s down to his boxers already, his usual sleepwear, preferring to be comfortable if he doesn’t have to leave the flat. When Seb returns he’s halfway through the tub already.

“You need to eat something besides ice cream, you know.”

“Had Nutella earlier.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. Jim sees, but ignores him. He waits for Sebastian to sit before flopping down with his head in the sniper’s lap and handing him the tub.

“Feed me.”

Sebastian resists the urge to roll his eyes again and takes the spoon. He feeds Jim a few spoonfuls before accidentally-on-purpose misjudging one and dropping it on his cheek. Jim starts a bit at the sudden cold sensation on his face.

“Oh no!” Seb exclaims in an obviously fake, over dramatic manner. “Look at this mess. I’ll just have to clean that up.”

Leaning down, he drags his tongue along Jim’s cheek, lapping the ice cream away. He can feel Jim’s stubble scraping against his tongue and taste him beneath the vanilla flavour. Jim grins wickedly up at him.

“How clumsy of you, tiger.”

“I know. Just terrible. Whoops.” This time the glob of rapidly melting ice cream lands on Jim’s chest. Sebastian’s mouth follows, following the little trail of melted liquid. Jim gives a quiet hum of appreciation.

“I think I like where this is going.”

“Bedroom?”

“Lead the way.”


	14. Day Fourteen - Genderswapped

Jade circles the man in the chair. There’s a streak of blood down along the side of her pale face and her blouse is soaked through with it. Sebastian can see the outline of her bra through the thin material. She licks her lips, eyes dark as she watches her employer. She was originally named Elizabeth, after her grandmother, and Augusta, after her father (he’d wanted a boy to pass his name onto), but shit as it is, it’s difficult getting a job as a hired gun when you’re a female. In the war gender hadn’t meant a damn thing, and she’d well proved her worth, but after her discharge she’d struggled to get a footing in London again. When Jade found her she was going by Sebastian, and the criminal continued to refer to her by it. Seb doesn’t mind. She hates her name anyway.

Jade spares her a brief glance. She’s half in shadows, the dramatic contrast of dark against pale skin exaggerating her bone structure. She’s gorgeous and Seb wants nothing more than to lick the blood from her face. Jade smiles knowingly, twirling the knife gracefully between her fingers before lashing the man across the throat. His life ends in a scarlet fountain of blood. More flecks of it splatter across Jade’s face.

All because he’d laughed when he found out she was a woman.

She takes a moment to examine her work before prowling across the room towards Sebastian. The sniper watches her with undisguised hunger. Jade’s heels even out their height, so when she stops in front of Seb their eyes are even. She holds Jade’s gaze steadily, looking into those big, dark eyes, and it feels like drowning. Jade’s smile widens.

“My, my, kitten. See something you like?”

“As if you even have to ask.”

“Mm, true, but you know I love it when you play along, pet.”

“I’m very aware, mummy.”

Jade catches her suddenly by the front of her vest, dragging her in as if she intends to devour her. Seb groans, hands going to Jade’s hips and gripping tight, pulling her body closer. Jade nips at her lip and she sucks hard on her tongue in response. When they finally break apart they’re both a bit breathless.

“My suit is completely ruined.”

“I noticed.”

“Filthy.”

“We should get rid of it.”

Witihin seconds Sebastian has nicked the knife from Jade and has it pressed against her throat. Jade swallows, holding eye contact as she arches her pale neck up against the blade. Sebastian laughs and twirls it, tugging downward and beginning to slice the buttons off her blouse.


	15. Day Fifteen - In a Different Style of Clothing

Sebastian finds Jim in the bedroom, clad only in a pair of jeans that look painted on. He licks his lips, eyes trailing over the criminal’s pale torso, the way his shoulder blades roll beneath the skin as he plays with his hair. Jim catches him staring in the mirror and smirks.

“There you are.”

“Hm? Yeah.” Sebastian forces his gaze away from the enticing expanse of skin, meeting Jim’s gaze in the mirror. “You said you required me?”

“Yes, darling. We have a very special job this evening.”

That sounds promising.

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Care to expand?”

“Patience, love.” Jim is- Is he putting on eyeliner now? Oh God, yes, and it’s making his eyes look even wider, darker. “We need to kill someone, but we need information first.”

“We?”

“Yes. This is extremely important. I will be accompanying you.”

“Dressed like _that_?” Usually anything business related calls for Jim’s designer suits. This is definitely a world away from his sharp attire.

“That’s the catch. He’s heavily guarded, which wouldn’t be a problem if he were simply a hit, but we need to get him alone to interrogate him and it would be extremely troublesome to deal with extensive security.”

Jim knows Sebastian still doesn’t understand what this has to do with his choice of clothing. He smiles at his reflection, ruffling his hair up more so it looks like he’s just rolled out of bed, purposefully holding off explaining just to irritate Sebastian. Seb waits patiently, ever the good pet. Well, mostly.

“He does, however, frequent a certain establishment alone.”

“Oh.”

Jim smiles as it clicks with the sniper.

“Yes. Oh indeed.” He shrugs on a sleeveless white button up shirt that’s at least one size too small, leaving it unbuttoned. “So you’ll have to change. Don’t look so stricken, love.”

Sebastian’s discomfort is evident. He has no shame with displaying his body, but the idea of being paraded through the kind of club Jim is referring to makes him a bit anxious.

“Don’t worry.” Jim is currently in the process of trying to pull on a knee high leather boot, and Sebastian wonders where the fuck he even finds these kind of things. “You’re going to be the dom. No one will touch you without permission.”

“I- What?”

“Dominant, darling. Mr Whitlow has a soft spot for the subs.” Jim zips one boot up and starts on the other. “I’ll play it up a bit, catch his attention.”

Sebastian’s stomach twists with a hot, possessive streak of jealousy. Jim doesn’t miss it.

“That’s when you step in. Agree to let him have his way with me, but only if you’re present.”

“Not sure I like this plan.”

“We won’t actually do anything, doofus. Once we have him isolated in a back room we extract the required information and then you can deal with him. It won’t even matter if he makes noise. Anyone who hears will just think we’re playing.”

Jim practically beams at this, rooting around in the drawer for something. He comes out with a collar, not terribly different from the one he forces Sebastian into on occasion. It’s simple, black leather that clashes deliciously with his skin when he slides it on. Sebastian jeans are beginning to feel a bit tight at the sight.

The clothes Jim has laid out for him are only slightly different. There’s jeans he has to fight with to get into, but they’re not as tight as Jim’s, don’t bite into his hipbones the way Jim’s do. There’s going to be red welts around Jim’s waist later and Sebastian is going to press his fingers right down into them, make them sting. Instead of the knee high hooker boots he’s just got a pair of army boots, and in place of the white shirt, he has a simple black waistcoat. Jim looks him over appreciatively when he’s done, forcing Seb to sit on the bed while he messes up his hair.

“You look a treat, my darling. There’s a car waiting. Shall we?” Jim is already moving towards the door. He disappears quickly down the hall and when Sebastian meets him in the living room he’s holding out a lead to him, the end of it clicked onto his collar. Fuck. Sebastian is going to _have_ him like this after the job is done. He grips the lead tight, jerking Jim towards him and earning himself a little yelp in response.

“Let’s get this over with.”


	16. Day Sixteen - During Their Morning Rituals

They don’t particularly have a morning routine, because they rarely get up at the same time. If Jim can’t sleep Sebastian could find him anywhere. Working in his office, pacing the spare room, reading in the living room, fucking around with chemicals in the kitchen (which he hates, because the kitchen is his space). During other nights of Jim’s insomnia, exhaustion will sometimes win out and Seb will find him asleep on the sofa or at his desk. Then there are the times Jim will just curl up against him and listen to his breathing, letting it relax him even if his mind won’t shut down.

The nights he doesn’t sleep until late mean he’s often grumpy and groggy when he wakes up, not wanting to move from bed. Jim’s definitely not much of a morning person. Sebastian, on the other hand, gets up early significantly more often than Jim. He has a decent amount of hits during morning hours that require him to be up and prepared before even the sun has risen. Other days he’ll rise early to go for his morning jog. He used to do it a whole lot more often, but when Jim is curled up against his side and breathing softly, it is a great deal harder to get out of bed.

Even then, their routine changes by day. Some days Jim won’t get dressed at all if he doesn’t have to go out, and others he’ll spend all morning grooming himself to perfection. Sebastian will save his shower until he gets back as he’ll only need another one, anyway. Since Jim has no set sleeping pattern, most other patterns in his life are unsettled as well. He showers when he feels like it, works when it’s required and as for eating, well, Seb’s been trying to train him into a decent pattern for years.

Some mornings he’ll make breakfast and bring it to Jim in bed. They’ll sit together, Jim leaning against his side as Sebastian feeds him toast and doesn’t complain because at least Jim’s eating. Other mornings Jim will just eat the leftover dinner he didn’t eat the night before because he woke up with a rumbling stomach.

Their lives are unpredictable, and so while they may have their own small routines within different aspects of their lives – for example, the way Sebastian cleans his guns or how Jim deals with his tension headaches – overall there’s not really a place for routine in the whirlwind of their joint lives.

Sebastian likes the lazy mornings best though. Jim secretly has a soft spot for them as well. The mornings when they have nowhere to be and nothing urgent that requires attention, when they only have to move for a piss and to brush their teeth. Then they’ll fall back beneath the warmth of the sheets and into a tangle of limbs again. They’ll share lazy kiss that might, but won’t necessarily, lead to lazy morning sex, and for a few hours they will exist alone, separate from the world beneath the barrier of their duvet.


	17. Day Seventeen - Spooning

Sebastian’s been in bed for over an hour now. He’s drifting at the edge of sleep, but hasn’t quite crossed over yet. Part of him is waiting for Jim to join him. As a soldier, Sebastian attained the ability to sleep in most conditions. While Jim’s insomnia plays up more when he’s alone, Jim’s presence doesn’t really affect Seb’s ability to sleep. He prefers it when the criminal is with him though. Jim hasn’t been sleeping well the past few nights and Sebastian misses curling around him, or having Jim splay out across his chest.

He finally drops off, coming around when the bed dips behind him. The blanket rustles about a bit and then Jim shifts closer, pressing himself against Sebastian’s back. He curls one leg around Seb’s hip, pressing his face into the back of Seb’s neck and inhaling deeply. Seb smiles to himself, shuffling around in the dark.

“Thought you were sleeping.”

“You woke me.”

“Oh,” is all Jim says, because he never apologises for anything. Sebastian moves forward blindly to kiss him. He gets his nose first, then he’s only half on his mouth. Jim takes over for the third attempt and moulds their lips together perfectly. Seb presses their foreheads together and brushes his nose against Jim’s fondly before Jim rolls over.

Sebastian’s arm slinks around his waist, and then Seb’s pulling him back flush against his body. Jim makes a quiet, pleased sound. They fit together better this way. Like two broken fragments slotting together. He links his fingers together with Seb’s over his stomach, his other arm curled above his head. Sebastian strokes lazily at Jim’s hair with his free hand and Jim sighs contentedly, practically melting back against him as he tangles his legs with Seb’s.

“Night Jim,” Sebastian murmurs into his hair.

“Sleep well, Bastian.”


	18. Day Eighteen - Doing Something Together

Jim sits curled in Sebastian’s lap. It makes it more awkward that way, actually, but Jim whines when he tries to shift him so Sebastian’s just given up and moved the book to the hand not stroking Jim’s side. Jim always gets what he wants, anyway. He nuzzles his face into Seb’s neck, tugging the duvet further up over them. They have a rare few days to themselves, and Jim had gushed on and on about all the things they were going to do.

But then it snowed and Jim took one step outside, hissed at the cold and made a hasty retreat. They’d lost their power a few hours after that and Jim had thrown a mild hissy fit.

It could be worse, really, Sebastian thinks. He built up a fire for them in the grate that’s now blazing away, brought the duvet out from their bed and gathered most of the candles in the flat. Now the living room is cosy and warm, the lights flickering, and the lack of electronics to distract him means Jim’s full attention lies with Sebastian. That’s a rare occurrence.

“No. Prufrock.”

“I already read Prufrock.”

“Read it again.”

Sebastian sighs, because of course Jim’s favourite poem would be one of the longest in the bloody analogy.

“I thought you liked Yeats.”

“I do, but I know that one off by heart.”

“You know Prufrock off by heart.”

Jim tilts his head up, all wide eyes and innocent expression. He knows better than to get angry in this situation, because that will lead to Sebastian sliding away from him and abandoning the book all together. No. This kind of situation requires emotional manipulation. Make Sebastian feel bad and he’ll get what he wants. Jim Moriarty always gets what he wants.

“But ‘Bastian, I like hearing you read it.”

Sebastian holds back another sigh and abandons ‘The Cat and the Moon’, instead flicking back through the book to one of the bookmarked pages. Jim has bookmarked all his favourites with little sticky notes, because God forbid he damage the book by folding the corners. The notes are colour coded depending how much he likes the poem. The pinks are his favourite. There are only a few pinks, so it doesn’t take Sebastian long to find Eliot’s ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.’

“Let us go then, you and I.”

Jim settles back against him once he’s read the first line, letting Sebastian’s voice wash over him as he mouths the words into the skin of Seb’s throat.

“When the evening is spread out against the sky.”

Sebastian feels Jim’s lips forming the words without flaw, mimicking his own. He can’t help but smile a bit.

“Like a patient etherized upon a table.”

Yeah, he thinks to himself. It could be worse.


	19. Day Nineteen - In Formal Wear

Jim bats Sebastian's hand away, straightening up his tie. He can see the annoyance flash in Seb's eyes. He knows how to do up a bloody tie. Jim ignores it, fixes the tie to his preference and brushes his hands down along Sebastian's lapels.

“My, my, tiger, aren't you a picture.”

“Remind me why I have to come along to your poncy party again?”

“Andreas is a very important connection. You, of all people, should appreciate his services.”

“Me? Why?” 

“Where do you think all your pretty toys come from?”

“Andreas is the gun guy?” 

“Mmmhm. He's an old associate, rather fond of me. Insists it's more than the fact I line his pockets.” 

Jim steps back and gives Sebastian another quick glance over. Satisfied with what he sees, he gives a curt little nod and turns to assess his own appearance. They're both in dark suits, Gucci, sharp and tailored to fit to perfection. Jim's completely at ease within his, looking as dangerous and gorgeous as ever. Sebastian looks dashing as well, but he's never been a big fan of dressing formal. It reminds him too much of the life he did his best to escape. Still, if Jim wants him to dress up he does so without a fuss. It's not worth the effort.

Jim runs a hand over his hair, smoothing it down despite the fact it's already sitting flawlessly. Sebastian is torn between fond amusement and exasperation at Jim's perfectionist ways.

“You look fine, boss.”

“Just fine?”

Cocky cunt on top of that.

“Amazing. Undeniably sexy. Hot beyond measure. Happy?”

Jim twirls to grin at him, teeth bared. He looks more manic than genuinely happy, but Sebastian's used to his weird little expressions by now. He returns the smile.

“Very. You know, I should dress you up more often.” Jim strokes a finger down along Sebastian's chest. “It's quite the sight. Mm, yes, I could get used to this.”

Sebastian lets Jim do as he pleases, withholding his disapproval of this plan because that purr in Jim's voice is promising enough that he's willing to suffer for the reward.

“Still, I do rather look forward to getting you out of it when we return.”

With that comment, Jim turns, double checking he has what he needs before disappearing down the hall. Sebastian swallows thickly, unable to hide his grin as he follows. Oh yeah, completely worth it.


	20. Day Twenty - Dancing

Jim has his eyes closed, the flashing lights illuminating the insides of his eyelids with various colours. The alcohol has made it’s way into his blood stream by now, leaving him light headed and relaxed. He sways with the sound of the music, arms raised above his head.

Sebastian’s hands start on his arms, just below the elbows. He drags them down to Jim’s ribs, palms and fingers tracing his body all the way down to settle on his hips. There his hold tightens. He pulls Jim back and closer to him. Jim leans into the touch, the clear possessiveness of the action adding another dizzy rush of pleasure. Usually he wouldn’t let Sebastian paw all over him like this in public, but lost in a crowd of bodies they are not James Moriarty, consulting criminal, and his sniper. They are just Jim and Seb.

It can’t really be called dancing. Not any more. Jim’s moving without any real sense of rhythm, lost and floating inside his body. Everything is hazy around the edges and he’s not really aware of his movements, just of Sebastian’s body pressed against his. Seb is practically grinding against Jim and trying to convince himself it qualifies as dancing. It would be obscene if every other person in the club were not doing the very same thing.

Sebastian loves Jim like this. When he lets himself go. It’s not even a character role, and Seb is so grateful that he is allowed to see Jim like this.

Jim’s arms move backwards, searching for Sebastian. They wrap around his neck and pull him closer, so their whole bodies are flush now. He leans his head back on Seb’s shoulder and grins up at him, pupils blown. Sebastian kisses him hard and Jim returns it with just as much enthusiasm. Like their dancing, it’s sloppy and lacking any real technique, but they’re both too gone to care. Seb tastes like vodka and Jim tastes like whatever fruity cocktail he’s been ordering all night.

It’s not perfect, but it’s enough.


	21. Day Twenty One - Cooking/Baking

It’s a little known fact that Sebastian Moran loves to cook, and he’s damned good at it, thank you very much. Jim knew, of course. Not long after they’d moved in together Sebastian had started cooking dinner in an effort to get Jim to eat. It took a while, but nowadays he can usually get Jim to eat regularly enough. Not always as regularly as he’d like, but better.

The baking, however, he’d managed to keep hidden for a long time. Mostly by not giving into the urges and cravings. It’s not that he’s ashamed, not exactly, he’s just a bit embarrassed. Afraid Jim will make a mockery of him. In spite of everything, he wants to impress Jim. To earn his pride. It’s stupid and a bit childish, but it’s the way it’s been between them since he can remember.

But one day he just says fuck it and buys the ingredients for cupcakes when he’s doing the weekly shop. Heck, Jim likes cupcakes. On occasion he’ll even bring home a box from the bakery and binge through the whole thing in an evening. He can’t really complain if Sebastian is making him something he likes.

Jim lands home when they’re in the oven. He pauses in the doorway, tipping his head up and sniffing the air. Something smells delicious. He shuts the door and pads into the kitchen to investigate, finding a very startled looking Sebastian leaning down to glance in the oven.

“Oh. You’re home.”

“Are you baking something?”

“Uh, yeah, I was, um, making cupcakes.”

Sebastian wants to bash his head in the oven door for how idiotic he must sounds. He steels himself, waiting for the worst.

“I hope you’re making buttercream icing.”

Wait, what?

“What?” Sebastian looks up at him with a slight frown, because that was not what he was expecting.

“Buttercream icing. Do pay attention, dear.”

“Ah. Yes, actually.”

“Goody. I’m helping decorate them.”

“Sure.”

So Jim hops up on the counter and watches Sebastian mix up the buttercream icing, and when the cupcakes are done he ends up decorating most of them. Sebastian can’t say he’s not relieved. The whole thing has turned out better than he could have hoped, and now he’ll hopefully be able to try out other recipes without Jim taking the piss.

“I was thinking of maybe trying cheesecake next week.” He watches Jim, who is currently licking the mixing spoon clean, carefully to gauge his reaction.

“I like cheesecake.”

And it’s as easy as that.


	22. Day Twenty Two - In Battle, Side by Side

The meeting quickly takes a turn for the worse, and from there it nosedives into a complete disaster. The man is clearly trying to cheat Jim from the start, and Jim makes no effort to hide his distaste. They move from disagreement to verbal argument and before they’ve even been in the room any length of time there’s a man pointing a gun at Jim’s head.

Sebastian shoots him in the head without a second thought.

Then they’re surrounded.

Thankfully, the other men don’t have guns. Sebastian’s good, but he’s not a miracle worker. As for Jim, he’s got a shit aim and works better at close range. That being said, he’s pretty good with the throwing knives. The gangsters form a ring around them, and they move back to back without really thinking it over. Safer this way. They have each other covered.

Sebastian holds his gun out in front of him. He knows he has a limited number of bullets so he won’t shoot wildly. It’s for whoever gets too close. Jim has pulled several knives out of his suit (Seb still hasn’t worked out where he hides them) and is holding them by his sides. One of the men steps towards him. Jim hits him just above the heart. It’s not enough to kill, but you get stabbed in the chest it’s going to slow you down, fatal wound or not.

They work in harmony to keep the circle wide. Sebastian shoots and Jim throws and together they decrease the number of their enemies significantly. But the weapons only last for so long. Soon Sebastian is out of bullets and Jim is out of knives.

“How you doin’ back there, boss?”

“Just splendid. And you, tiger?”

“Havin’ a ball.”

Jim laughs, reaching for his folding knife. He knows how to fight, yes. The weak areas to target and how to use others’ strength against them, but he still likes to have a weapon on hand just in case. A few of the bravest (or as Jim would say, stupidest) men surrounding them step forward. They think now that the pair are unarmed that they’re vulnerable. They are, of course, wrong.

By the time Sebastian and Jim are done, they’re dotted with blood and there’s a pile of twenty-two bodies burning in the abandoned office building. All in a day’s work, really.


	23. Day Twenty Three - Arguing

Sebastian’s barely just shut the door before Jim has him pinned up against it. There’s a hand at his throat, thumbs pressing down hard enough to cut off his breathing and nails biting into the skin. He lets his bag carefully drop by his side and looks down at Jim, waiting for him to allow him to breathe once again. He’s starting to see dots when Jim finally releases his throat, only to slam his head back against the door. Sebastian hisses, giving him a little shove back.

“You missed the fucking shot.”

“I still made it, didn’t I?”

“You missed it.”

“Yeah, alright, I missed it, but then I fucking fixed my mistake so I don’t see what your problem is.”

“You’re not supposed to make mistakes. You’re meant to be the best. I expect you to be the best.”

“Even the best have bad days.”

Sebastian tries to shake Jim off, but he’s a persistent little wanker when he wants to be. Clearly Seb has the size advantage, but there’s certain times when you don’t mess with Jim Moriarty. Sebastian may have a physical advantage, but Jim barely sleeps and Jim can easily get him when he’s least expecting it. When his boss doesn’t move, he stills and waits for whatever is to come.

Jim’s seething. Beyond furious. When the first shot missed it alerted the target and it’s only sheer luck that Sebastian managed to get another shot before they started to panic.

“I accept nothing less than the best.”

“Oh yeah? What’re you going to do, kill me because I missed one bloody shot? I’d like to see who’d replace me.”

Jim glares at him, eyes intense and burning.

“Yeah,” Sebastian continues when Jim doesn’t reply. He shouldn’t be speaking. He should shut his mouth and wait for Jim to cool down, but he’s sick and tired of always rolling over and giving in. He works hard, and he’s good at what he does. It’s one mistake. It’s not the end of the world. He’d understand if he had of ballsed the job, but he fixed it in the end. “’Cause we both know I’m the best you’ve got.”

“I could kill you right now.”

“Go ahead then!”

“I could cut out that smart alec tongue of yours, fry it up and force you to eat it.”

“Y’know what, fuck you. I never miss a shot, and I’m usually saving your ass when one of your clever little plans falls through, so I’m not going to listen to this.”

He turns to leave. Jim pounces, curling arms tight around his neck and latching onto his back. Sebastian stumbles under his weight, gasping for air he can’t draw in as Jim’s arms tighten further. He turns his back to the wall and slams Jim against it, trying to loosen his hold. He hears the air forced from the criminal’s lungs with an ‘oomph’, but he doesn’t let go.

They scrabble and claw at each other, and Jim, the little fucker, bites down on Sebastian’s shoulder hard enough to bleed. There’s punches and kicks and hair pulling. Jim fights dirty, but Sebastian has a physical advantage and finally he has his boss pinned to the ground, knee on his chest and wrists pinned on either side of his head. They look at each other, both taking deep, gasping breaths.

Then Sebastian’s closing the gap between them and claiming Jim’s mouth. Jim kisses back as filthy as he fights, all tongue and teeth biting, tugging, tearing. It’s not pretty. It’s a continuation of the fight, but when they end up in a mess of blood splattered and sweat soaked sheets, it feels like they’ve both won.


	24. Day Twenty Four - Making Up

_Okay, Sebastian, just go in there and do it. It's not the first time you've had to swallow your pride. It's not worth the effort in the long run, just get it over with now._

Despite his pep talk to himself, Sebastian is still standing in the hall staring down the front door two minutes later when Jim almost walks into him. He pauses, tension thick between them. Sebastian swallows thickly. No time like the present.

“Get out of the way. I thought I told you to stay out of my sight.”

“Jim-”

“Move, Moran.”

Ouch. Last name. That only comes out when Jim is very pissed.

“No.”

“Don't disobey me. You are in enough trouble as it is.”

“If you would just listen to me-”

“I don't have to listen to you. Funnily enough, it's actually the other way-”

Sebastian presses his hand over his mouth. Jim's eyes widen, fury evident. Seb speaks quickly before Jim can pull away.

“Look, I just came back to say that you were right and I'm-ARGH. What the _fuck_?” Jim had bitten down hard on his hand, causing him to jerk away from the unexpected pain. “I'm trying to fix things between us, you could at least give me the chance.”

Jim looks at him long and hard, expression unreadable.

“Please. Even if not because I asked, then do it because it's making working together difficult. Don't say it's not, because it is. You make it a lot more difficult for me to protect you when you're angry.”

Jim is silent for another painful handful of moments.

“I want you stripped and on your knees in the spare room at half seven tonight. If you want forgiveness, you're going to have to take your punishment like a good boy.”

Depending on the extent of that punishment, it might actually turn out to be a good night. Sebastian isn't sure if Jim is angry enough to push pleasurable pain to complete pain. He doesn't have a choice either way.

“Yes, boss.” Finally, he steps to the side. Jim brushes past him and sets off without another glance.


	25. Day Twenty Five - Gazing Into Each Others' Eyes

“Well, isn't this romantic.”

Jim tilts his head up, grin wide and wicked. His suit is ruined and his face is smeared with dust and grime. He's pressed tight against Sebastian's chest, too tight to be comfortable. The little nook in their current enemies' hideout may have been a slight squeeze for one person, and it certainly isn't big enough for the two of them. Still, anywhere else would have left them in the open and they're already unarmed. No point being sitting ducks.

Someone had leaked information. There was no other way they would have been so prepared. Jim wasn't even meant to be there, but after the rest of Sebastian's team and the back up team were taken down, he'd come out of observation with the intention of sorting it himself. Of course, there was no way he and Sebastian could take a full building of armed foes alone. It had been an impulsive decision and Sebastian is livid. It was bad enough trying to work out a way to get himself out alive, but now he had to get Jim back to their car on the far side of the base as well.

At his boss' comment he glares down at him.

“If you had of stayed where you were supposed to be, we wouldn't be here.”

Jim stares back, unblinking, and Sebastian forces himself not to look away.

“Are you not having fun?”

No, of course he fucking isn't. Jim's grin widens almost impossibly far, dominating the lower half of his face. Prick. He sets a hand on Seb's shoulder, thumb stroking across a gash on his neck and smearing the blood. He doesn't break the eye contact. Seb's eyelids flutter slightly at the sting that comes from Jim's thumb against the open wound. Jim presses down, watching his reaction closely. Sebastian hisses, but it's a good kind of hiss, a _fuck yes_ kind of hiss.

Jim licks the blood from his thumb, eyes locked onto Sebastian's, and Seb presses him back against the wall and kisses him hard.

“If we get out of this, I am going to do whatever I want to you tonight and you are going to take it.”

“That a promise, tiger?”

“Oh yeah.”


	26. Day Twenty Six - Getting Married

They'd been working steady for a few months, and there was finally a lull. A few weeks with nothing on. They'd been stuck in London for the better part of a year, Seb only leaving for a few short foreign jobs. Jim was restless and Sebastian just missed having the criminal to himself. They decided to go somewhere, and where better than Sin City?

The flight was tedious. Jim hated flying, hated the hassle of airports and being in such close capacity to other people, but he'd gone all out and booked first class so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Sebastian had rather enjoyed it.

At the airport they got a cab. No point hiring a car if they were going to be drinking frequently. Jim had the money, anyway, and he wasn't against indulging. He sat beside Sebastian in the back seat, head against his shoulder. He hadn't slept on the flight, or the day before they left, and it was starting to catch up with him. Sebastian was holding his hand, the other arm around Jim's shoulder as he soothingly stroked his hair. He loved it when Jim relaxed and forgot about work. When he let Sebastian spoil him with affection and even returned it. Jim nuzzled closer. Seb pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Gettin' married then?” the cab driver had said, glancing in the rear view mirror and offering Sebastian a smile. Jim had started laughing. The giggles erupting from his chest as he pressed closer to Seb, muffling them against his neck. Sebastian chuckled too, but before he could tell the cabbie that, no, they were not getting married, nor would they ever, Jim interrupted.

“Yeah, we are actually.”

Sebastian gaped at him, shocked. They didn't believe in marriage. Jim didn't like sentiment, and his mother had remained trapped with an abusive, alcoholic father purely because of their marriage. She was raised in Catholic Ireland when divorce was surrounded by stigma, and he'd hated that he had to suffer because of her idiotic ideals. As for Sebastian, his parents had remained in a cold, loveless marriage just for the sake of keeping up appearances. Neither Jim or Sebastian believed in any higher power, and neither of them saw the point in marriage. They had their own bonds that held them together. Seb's dog tags around Jim's neck was their wedding ring and Jim owned Sebastian, body and mind, in every way possible. They had their own twisted commitment.

“Aw, ain't that nice? Well, best of luck to ya.”

“Thanks.” Jim had smiled sweetly at him and cuddled up closer to Sebastian. At the hotel, Seb confronted him.

“We're never going to see him again.” Jim shrugged, grinning and leading the way inside. That had been that morning.

Now it's approaching midnight and they'd been drinking steady since half seven. Jim stuck to cocktails, fruity drinks of bright colours, but he was a lightweight compared to Sebastian and had gotten just as thoroughly pissed as the sniper. He's not sure where he acquired the ring, picking it up somewhere through the night. It was a tacky gold thing with dice on the front of it, the little dotted numbers made from diamonds. In his inebriated state getting married just seems like the absolute funniest thing in the world that they could ever possibly do.

And so, he clambers his way up onto the bar of whatever bar they're at and topples over the other side.

“I'm ooookay,” Jim slurs, gaining cheers as he crawls back up. He raises onto unsteady feet, Sebastian stumbling across so he can attempt to catch him if he falls. Jim simply takes his hand and pulls him up beside him. “QUIET,” he bellows, and the bar hushes, although there's still a buzz of mumbled conversation.

Jim turns to Sebastian and takes his hand, before pretty much falling to one knee. Suddenly, they have the attention of everyone in the room.

“Sebas'ian Moran.” Jim's words are slurred, his Irish accent thick and heavy around them. “I love you, like, a lot, which is surprisin' 'cause I didn' think I could love anyone, so will you marry me? 'Cause I think that'd be really funny.”

Drinking always makes Jim a lot more open with his emotions, and apparently the same is true for Sebastian, because he starts tearing up.

“Yes, yes of course I will!”

After a lot of fumbling Jim manages to get the tacky ring onto Seb's fingers. It's several sizes too big. Sebastian helps drag him to his feet and pulls him in for a sloppy, messy, but quite passionate kiss as the section of the bar whose attention they caught cheer them on.

They hire a limousine because Jim insists they get married in style, and make out heatedly in the back seat while the driver takes them to one of the many places that will marry you regardless of how obviously inebriated you are. Neither of them really remember the ceremony. They kiss several times before they're supposed to and fall into the second row of little folding chairs when they attempt to leave. Finally they make it out, telling the next couple waiting rather excitedly that they're married. They have drunk, messy sex and drink champagne from the hotel mini bar, and when Jim wakes up he thinks he's dying.

“I'm going to be sick.”

Sebastian groans at the sound, fighting to cling to sleep. Jim makes a run for the bathroom and empties his stomach. He returns looking horrible and flops into the bed again.

“Hururnggg,” Sebastian mumbles, throwing an arm across his face to fend off the sun coming through the large windows. Jim pauses, glancing at the abomination on his finger.

“Sebastian, where did you get that-” Suddenly the memory hits him like a tonne of bricks.

“Huh?” Seb forces his eyes open into angry slits, following Jim's line of vision to his hand. “Oh.” His memory comes slower than Jim's, but he remembers, vaguely. “Oh, shit.”

They look at each other for a moment before Jim laughs.

“What do we do?” Seb asks, finally sitting up.

“I think we should order room service.”

“I meant about this.” He waves his hand about. “Are we getting divorced?”

“No point, really.” Jim shrugs. “I guess we're married now. Doesn't really make a difference, does it?”

He laughs, and it grows until he's in a full laughing fit. For a moment Seb just stares, but then he starts laughing too, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head. He laughs until he feels sick.

“I'm not keeping the ring.”

“Good. It's really ugly.”

But he does. He doesn't wear it, but he keeps it stored safely away. As much as neither of them care for marriage, it still gives Seb a fluttering feeling in his chest to know they're tied to one another in yet another way.


	27. Day Twenty Seven - On One of Their Birthdays

Sebastian is exhausted. He’s done job after job after job, and it’s not that he cares much for his birthday, but he’d rather not spend it being worked to the bone. When he finally gets home the sun’s beginning to set and he’s aching all over.

The first thing he registers when he enters the flat is the smell of cooking. Jim doesn’t cook. He freezes, inhales deeply. No, there’s definitely nothing burning. He sets his bag by the door and kicks off his shoes, taking a hesitant step forward, curious. Suddenly Jim comes bounding out of nowhere and pounces on him, kissing him hard. Sebastian’s so lost in the kiss he doesn’t realise Jim has positioned a little party hat on his head. He pulls the elastic under his chin as he moves away, beaming at Seb.

“Happy birthday, tiger.”

Sebastian’s a bit speechless.

“Don’t look so surprised, of course I remembered. I remember everything. I made spaghetti.” Jim does not add that the only reason he made spaghetti is because he was sure he wouldn’t fuck it up, while a more daring dish may have led to the smoke detector going off again. “But first, let’s get you cleaned up.”

They shower together, and for once Jim soaps him up and rubs him down, taking time to work the knots out of his shoulders and back with nimble, skilled hands that leave Sebastian’s legs feeling like jelly. Jim washes himself quickly, but allows Sebastian to wash his hair, an indulgence he never passes up on. Seb’s fingers know all the sensitive areas on Jim’s scalp and can draw beautiful little noises from his mouth.

Afterwards they dry off, and both settle for boxers and t-shirts. Jim serves dinner with Sebastian’s favourite wine and forces him to wear the hat again. What means the most, is the fact Jim actually went to the hassle of making something himself, and he’s actually eating as well. The spaghetti is good. He’s mixed basil into the sauce the way Sebastian showed him and rolled the meatballs from scratch. Seb smiles across the table at him and strokes his foot along Jim’s shin. Jim raises his glass.

“To another year without dying.”

“To another year together,” Sebastian adds when he raises his glass, and Jim pulls a face that displays his distaste for sentiment, but allows Seb to clink their glasses together before he drinks anyway.

There is, much to Sebastian’s surprise, a cake in the shape of a rifle. Jim makes him go through the whole blowing out of candles ordeal, but they’re both too full for dessert so they leave it for later.

“Surprise time! Close your eyes.”

Jim checks and double checks that Sebastian’s isn’t peeking, while Seb wonders what else Jim has in store. He thought the meal was his gift.

Jim guides him down the length of the hall, and even blind he knows they’re heading for the spare bedroom. Jim pushes the door open and takes Seb a step inside, and Sebastian can practically feel him bouncing with energy beside him.

“Alright, open up.”

Sebastian’s moves his hand away and his jaw nearly goes slack with awe. The room is covered in weapons. Antique guns, hand carved wooden knives, the newest models, rifles that are meant only for the military. It must have cost a clean fortune, not just securing them but having them shipped in. There’s Japanese, German, Russian models amongst others. Sebastian doesn’t know what to say.

“I had to send you out all day so I could have them brought in without you seeing.” Jim beams, clearly proud of himself. He knows without even glancing at his face how much this means to Sebastian.

Seb steps further into the room, carefully lifting certain weapons and examining them before gently setting them down again. After five minutes he turns, crosses slowly to Jim and then swiftly presses him against the wall, kissing him hard. When they finally break apart, Jim is breathless.

“Also you get a free pass in the bedroom tonight. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

“That’s what I said.”

Oh, this is the best. Birthday. Ever.


	28. Day Twenty Eight - Doing Something Ridiculous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not all that ridiculous for Jim, but struggle as I may I could not think of anything else.

 

“Jim, you left the fucking empty milk carton in the fridge again. How many times have I-” Sebastian cuts off abruptly at the sight of Jim, standing in the bathroom in just his boxers. Jim who is currently smacking his lips together as he moves the lipstick in his hands away from them. He purses his red lips at himself in the mirror.

Sebastian doesn't even ask. Really, Jim does that many weird fucking things that this is actually pretty low down on the ridiculous scale. And maybe quite high up the _fuck, didn't realise I found that hot_ scale. Jim turns his head towards Seb, dipping his chin and fluttering his long, dark lashes (mascara? More than likely) at Sebastian.

“Don't you think daddy looks pretty, baby?”

Pretty is one way of putting it. Sebastian nods, eyes moving from Jim's face to down over his body.

“Eyes are up here, 'Bastian.” Jim chides him in that sing-song voice he's so fond of.

“Yes, but your dick is down there and it's far more interesting.” Sebastian's voice has taken on a husky edge. He leans against the door frame and licks his lips.

Jim throws him a look, dark eyes wide with the pretence of shock, the kohl outlining them making them appear even larger than usual. The wicked curl at the corner of his lush, red lips gives him away. His cheeks are flushed with blusher and his hips sway as he prowls across to Sebastian. Jim settles his palm on Seb's chest and looks up from beneath his lashes.

“I require your assistance.”

“Anything,” Seb says immediately. He's given up on being embarrassed over his eagerness when it comes to Jim.

“I need help sticking my nails on.” Jim pushes off of him and moves through to the bedroom.

Well, not exactly the dirty talk Sebastian was expecting. He sighs and follows Jim, finding him cross legged on the bed and tearing open a pack of false nails.


End file.
